#under my mask my mouth is fully making the shapes of the numbers the entire way through lol

[mashkaroom]

Slowly but surely, my hands ARE unsyncing on the accordion! I started with just playing the 1st and 5th on the right hand, which meant that though the two hands were moving on the same beats, the right hand didn’t ALWAYS move when the left hand did* -- also, they didn’t necessarily move in the same direction. I’m fairly comfortable with this now, and I’m trying to move on to melodies, which before I could not do at ALL. Now, I can play (somewhat accurately) play melodies with the right hand, as long as the beats perfectly subdivide into 2 with the accompaniment lol. So if I’m doing quarter notes with left hand, I can do a melody consisting of eight notes through whole notes, but a dotted eight is, as of yet, beyond my capabilities

*for those who don’t know how an accordion is set up (presumably most of you?) -- some columns of buttons on the left hand side are single notes, and some are chords, and each row is a 5th higher than the one below. so let’s say you want to play the tonic, chord, 5th, chord progression that’s the classic accordion sound for D minor, you (and by “you”, I mean “I”, it’s possible other people do it differently?) place one finger on the D button, one on the A button (which is directly above the D button), and one on the D minor button, which is in the same row as the D button. Did that make any sense lol? The point is that when I’m only playing 1st and 5th on the right hand, they hit the keys at the same time as the left hand hits the 1st and 5th, but they stay still when the left hand is hitting the chord button. When I started playing, even this was tricky for me! Not sure why this was so much more difficult than, say, piano, with which I never had this problem -- though to be honest, I feel like it might just be an age thing rather than any particular quality of the instrument. It might just be much harder to unsync once you age out of some critical period. Though there’s also the fact that with accordion you’re pulling it side to side, which is an extra factor -- at the beginning, I struggled to unsync my wrist from the fingers of the same hand lol. i feel like this is an extremely unclear explanation for anyone who isn’t already pretty familiar with the set-up of an accordion, the point is i’m making progress and i’m pleased with that :)

[joansiefics]

Hey!! I just saw your prompt post and I was wondering if I could request prompts 2 and 4 from the angst section with Steve Rogers? Fluffy ending? I'm just really in the Steve mood rn. Thanks❤️😘

No Bed Of Roses

STEVE ROGERS X READER

Prompt 2: "don't you hurt a single hair on her head"

Prompt 4: "I don't know where I am... please help"

SUMMARY: You get kidnapped on your way home from running errands and Steve comes to save you.

WARNINGS: Explicit  Descriptions of Torturing (Cutting, Dislocations...), Kidnapping, Chloroform, Blood, Mentions of Death, Guns

A/N: The expression "no bed of roses" means not pleasant at all. And seeing that this fic is about an anniversary I accentuated and incorporated flowers in the fic. I'm sorry it took so long to write your request, but I hope you like the final product.

MARVEL MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are OPEN

Add yourself to my TAGLIST

~Flower #1: Peony - means Marriage~

You just finished decorating - roses strewn over the tablecloth accompanied by lit candles and fairy lights hanging by the entrance. It was your first marriage anniversary and you wanted it to be special. There were still three hours left before Steve would be home and you were almost done, you just needed to make your famous pumpkin pie. "Dang it!" you spoke aloud when you noticed your flour wasn't enough for the recipe. You rushed to the door and grabbed your keys on the way out.

------

You payed for the flour, thanked the cashier and rushed back to your car. A few meters away from your car, you searched your purse for your keys and unfortunately didn't notice the two men creeping up on you.

~Flower #2: Aconite - means Be Cautious~

A calloused hand enclosed around your mouth, muffling your cries for help, as the other arm snaked around your waist, preventing you from escaping. Another man's hand came into your peripheral vision, a torn rag in his hand. You struggled against the arm around your waist, screaming against his filthy, sour tasting hand and kicking your legs wildly. The rag was forced into your face, even though you twisted your head from left to right, holding your breath and doing everything in your power to escape the drowsiness. After about five minutes of useless struggling, black spots started to cloud your vision, the fight fully escaped from your body and you fell numb into your attacker's arms.

------

~Flower #3: White Rose - means Silence~

When you opened your eyes, the dark was exchanged for more darkness. You relied on your hearing to inform you of your surroundings - a dripping faucet, the roof's thermal expansion and contraction and silence. The sudden presence of a fluorescent light directed directly into your eyes had you squinting. "Sleeping Beauty finally awakes" a loud voice booms from somewhere in front of you. You try opening your eyes against the bright light to find the source of the goosebump-eliciting voice. "Who are you and what do you what from me?" you strenuously ask. A dry cough threatens to escape your parched throat and makes you gag, before you collect the most possible saliva to swallow. "We'll leave our identity a riddle for you to figure out while we wait for your Captain to show up"

'No, no, no, no...HYDRA...Steve fought so hard against them, he'll be devastated' you think "Well, then I'll have all the time in the world, he's not coming to save me" you say, hoping that it came across more convincing than it felt "We both know you're lying princess" "Don't call me princess" you seethe. "We need to do something about your snarky remarks, princess." he tuts as he walks to the corner of the room and for the first time you see the trolley decorated with tools. "With what do you want to start?" he asks fake politely. "You choose" you say with fake bravery masking your utter terror. "Let's see if we can shut your pretty mouth up first." He picks up a knife and slowly stalks towards you.

~Flower #4: Marigold - means Pain~

When he gets to you, he forces your mouth open - his long fingernails digging into your soft, rosy cheeks. He musters up all his saliva, stores it at the tip of his tongue and spits the ball of slime into the back of your throat. You choke on the warm liquid, traveling down your throat as he shakes your head to ensure that you swallowed all the given saliva. Once you swallowed everything you look your kidnapper in the eyes "thank you so much, I was so thirsty" "Let's see if you'll be so outspoken when I cut your tongue" he digs his nails deeper, drawing blood as you try to close your mouth. He forces the knife's blade into your mouth.

The cut is made at the tip of your tongue - not deep enough to cut the tip off, but just deep enough to let it bleed profusely. A scream escapes your lungs and the tears sting behind your eyes. "Not so brave now sweetheart, huh?" he mocks. He takes a phone out of his pocket and clicks on a number. The phone rings once and then the other person picks up "Hello?" the person, you recognize as Steve, unsurely greets. "Captain, we have your pretty little wife over here" "Don't you hurt a single hair on her head!!" Steve yells fumingly. "Oops, too late" "let me talk to her" Steve urgently orders, hands clenched into fists. "No, no, no captain...why don't I show you" your kidnapper switches the call over to video call and focuses the camera on you. He grabs your cheeks again, forcing your mouth open. Then he grabs a pair of pliers and pull at the tip of your tongue, to show Steve the damage that has been done.

You don't know when your tears started falling - maybe when you saw Steve or maybe when your tongue was cut into, but they were now flowing down your cheeks, stinging in the crescent shaped cuts of your kidnapper's nails. "Just hold on sweetheart, I'm going to get you out of there okay?" 'He is probably still at work... how long have I been here? Less than three hours?' You attempted to speak but you rather hissed at the pain when your tongue touched your upper palate. Steve's heart clenched at the sight of your fear stricken face, contorting in pain. "Here's the deal, we let your pretty princess go free when you hand yourself in" the kidnapper speaks up. "Deal, but I swear if you hurt her even more I won't hesitate to kill you" and with that Steve hangs up.

------

~Flower #5: Balsamine - means Impatient~

"I think he forgot about you princess" the kidnapper says, impatiently looking at his watch and walking the room up and down. When nearly twenty minutes have passed since the phone call, your kidnapper lost patience. He harshly yanked you up, by your hair, from the chair and pulled you after him - your feet sweeping the floor clean. At the other side of the room he let go of your hair and kicked you over onto your stomach. He gripped your tied up wrists and cut the rope loose, only to secure your wrists with a much stronger and longer rope. You could feel the sisal rubbing over your already lacerated wrists and feel the blood trickling down your fingers.

When your kidnapper was sure that you could not escape the bonds, he hauled you up by holding the other side of the rope. He lead you to a contraption where he made you climb the three stairs upwards. He positioned you that your back was to the pole-like-contraption and then tied the longer end of the rope (behind your back) to it. He quickly got off and pulled the handle which made the platform disappear from your under your feet and you fell with a big force to the ground, being pulled back by the rope just before your feet could touch the ground. You screamed as you felt your shoulder pop out of its socket - the pain electrifying every cell in your body.

------

~Flower #6: Iris - means Faith & Hope~

You have no idea how long you've been hanging from a rope - a shoulder dislocated, probably a broken rib, lacerated wrists and a slit tongue. The distant sound of gunshots alert your kidnapper, but you hang numbly and exhausted. 'Where's Steve? I know he'll come for me, it's just a matter of time' you try to talk some sense into yourself, before you completely think that Steve has abandoned you. "Don't let them get the girl, she's our only leverage!!" your kidnapper yells through his comms to the soldiers, but he is met with static. "Your captain has come to rescue you... and now we have him right where we want him. He'll pay for all the destruction he caused." he has a disgusting smirk on his face, eyes glowing with evilness. "Sir, we need you on the field, all our backup is dead!" a panicked voice makes its way through the static and over the comms. "Stay right here you filthy female and don't make a sound or I won't hesitate to cut out your entire tongue out when I get back" he snarls before running out to the battlefield.

'If I yell someone might hear me and save me, or that freak will come back and cut out my tongue. Maybe I'll die when he does that, then I won't have to suffer anymore... it's worth a try' and then you start yelling with every ounce of energy and air left in your lungs. "Heeeeelp!!!" you cry out. The sound of your cries echoes through the room and into the hallway just outside the room. "Y/N?!" it takes a moment before you realize that it's not your echo boomeranging but someone calling out to you. "I don't know where I am...please help me!!!" you yell.

Steve follows your voice as the other Avengers fight of more HYDRA agents. When he enters the room and sees your hanging figure his heart breaks into pieces, shattering on the floor. "Y/N?" he carefully asks, to make his presence known. He slowly walks closer to you, purposely making his steps louder for you to hear and not to startle you. You lift your head up a bit, seeing Steve, before your head falls back down, your chin touching your collar bone. Steve assesses the entire contraption as he takes a few more steps closer to you.

~Flower #7: Gladiolus - means Heroism~

When Steve is standing in front of you, he carefully lifts your chin to make you look him in the eyes. "Steve" you whisper, throat dry, lips sticking together and tongue aching. "I'm here sweetheart" he comforts you, because he knows you'll need it to pull the next part off. "Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me" "hmn" you acknowledge him. "I'm going to cut the rope from this contraption and I'm going to hold you so you don't fall, I just need you to trust me and work with me" "okay" your small voice, make tears burn at the back of Steve's eyes and he has to fight hard to suppress them. He snakes an arm around your waist and cuts the rope, making you fall over his broad shoulders (fireman style carrying). A disgruntled sound leaves your throat when your shoulder flops around limply. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Steve apologizes.

He carries you to the middle of the room and lays you down. He takes of his jacket, folds it and put it under your head as a pillow. "Sweetheart?" he lightly shakes your uninjured shoulder to get your attention. "Can you tell me where it hurts?" you nod your head 'no' before closing your eyes again. "I know you're tired, but you gotta stay awake just a little while longer okay?" You open your eyes again and Steve asks the same question "can you tell me where it hurts, sweetheart?" "my tongue" Steve knows about your tongue, but he lets you finish. "my shoulder" he saw your shoulder was out out of place when he cut the rope loose. "my ribs and my wrists" "Is that all?" Steve asks, and you just give him a simple nod, too tired and sore to talk.

"I'm going to first take a look at your shoulder" Steve says. He quickly informs the team of your whereabouts and then focuses all his attention back to you. He lifts your arm up, supports your shoulder with his one hand and pulls as hard as he can towards him. A high pitched scream leaves you, once again. "It's done, it's done" Steve cooes as he rubs his hands over your arms.

Just them Bucky and Natasha arrives at the scene. "It's all clear" Bucky relays to Steve. "Thanks guys" Steve thanks, gently picking you up bridal style and carrying you to the Quinjet.

------

At the compound you were professionally taken care of. And later that night, you woke up to the soft 40's music playing in the background, Steve holding your hand and flowers next to your bed, with a note attached to it - "I love you so much Y/N, and nothing will ever take you away from me" You lightly tugged at Steve's hands and he woke up, but before he could speak you put your finger over his lips. "Just lie with me, please"

---------------------------------

TAGLIST: (if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you)

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus

[hoe-doroki]

I just read your Iida fic with the reader having a breakdown and I love your writing! You portrayed him really well! Are your requests open to do another fic with Iida and some fluff? Anything is fine!

Hey there, nonnie! Thanks so much for the request. Sorry it took a few days to get out--vague requests really stump me sometimes. I had to do a lot of brainstorming to come up with...this? Look, this idea is basically crack and I don’t know what to tell you. Hope someone enjoys it!

pairing: Iida x reader

genre: fluff, mild comfort

word count: 1.8k

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

There was something musical about the sound of glass breaking. When it was a clean break, rather than the crushing of a bottle underfoot or a baseball hitting a window, it made a delicate tinkle, like the hit of a glockenspiel. Nice. Pretty.

Job one was cleaning the mess. You used your quirk to hover out of the room, relieved to find that the damage hadn’t made it past your closed bedroom door. All the other lights and windows in the house were in one piece, and thankfully the kitchen had been untouched. You found a dustpan and began trying to erase the evidence.

Not that there was any real chance of that. Two hours into your endeavor, you heard the front door open and cringed. But there was nothing to hide—it wasn’t like any lie in the world could make up for the fact that all of Iida’s glasses were now prescriptionless.

“I’m home!” Iida called as you stood up, trying to regain some of your dignity and circulation in your knees before you came face to face with your boyfriend.

“In the bedroom,” you called. “I suggest you keep your shoes on.”

“Why in the world would I—”

You saw Iida step into the doorway, your teeth gritted nervously as you eyed his reaction. His shoes were already off and his now-singular set of glasses were pointed at the ground, his jaw dropped.

“Honey?” Iida asked when he was done looking at your dustpan and trash bin filled with glass and the many sparkling bits still left on the floor. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said, holding up gloved hands to show that you had no cuts to worry about. “Just put on shoes, babe.”

“Right,” Iida said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Right.”

You heard him shuffling back to the door to find a pair of shoes to put on. You’d done the same earlier and, though you were sure Iida felt just as strange about wearing shoes in the house as you did, it was certainly a necessity in this scenario.

“Okay,” Iida said, now shoed and back into the doorway. He had a tense hand pointed at either you or the mess, you weren’t sure. “So what happened here?”

“Well,” you began awkwardly. “I was working on my quirk a little bit. You know how I’ve been trying to hit a high C? Well…I finally did. And, um, it turns out that it breaks glass.”

“That’s a myth,” Iida stated. “High C’s only break glass under very specific circumstances. It would be nearly impossible for your singing to create…to cause all this.”

“No, I know that,” you said, smiling against the hellish backdrop. “My quirk, Iida. We finally know what happens when I sing a high C.”

Iida’s mouth fell open again, smaller this time. “Oh. Oh.”

Your quirk was a…peculiar one. Every note you sang, when sustained for more than a few seconds, caused a different effect. A B flat 4 allowed you to breathe out smoke. A D4 gave you a slight gravitational pull, but you never really used that one, since it only tended to attract pollen and leaves your way. G3 was a little low for you, but allowed you to levitate a couple inches off the ground which, usually, you found to be pretty useless. However, it was sure helpful right now, as you tried to navigate between rare spots of glassless floor.

When most people heard about your quirk, they thought it was really cool. Unlike most, you technically had dozens of quirks. However, most of them were almost entirely useless, and very hard to train, since they all only worked when you were sustaining a note. So you couldn’t use any quirk for more than twenty or thirty seconds at a time. You couldn’t strengthen any of them with those restraints. The best you could do was increase your lung capacity, work on your pitch, and try and stretch your range to see if any notes at the far ends of your register would reveal something more useful or interesting.

And this one was interesting. You could appreciate the irony. You weren’t sure you liked it, though.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” you said before lightly singing a G3 and hovering over to him. “I broke all of your glasses.”

He looked over at the thin shelves that now held nothing but the thin frames of dozens of glasses and unusable, cracked lenses. His face crumbled—it appeared he hadn’t noticed before, his eyes too focused on the shrapnel on the floor.

Iida swallowed and nodded, the corners of his mouth tense. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not mad.”

You put a hand on his cheek, but he was still looking at his ruined collection instead of at you, and your heart clenched a little. “It would be okay if you were mad,” you said. “Those were expensive and you had them for a reason…I’m really sorry.”

“No,” Iida said, shaking his head before making eye contact with you, his face placid. “The reason I had them was in case a pair broke in battle. This wasn’t battle, but it was your quirk training which is of equal importance. So they served their purpose.”

“But my quirk is useless,” you said. “If you’re saying that your glasses’ divine cause was my quirk training then they died in vain, because I’m never going to sing that note again.”

“Hey, there’s no need to say that,” Iida said, rubbing a big hand over your shoulder before pulling you in. “This quirk could be very valuable in a number of situations. What if you need a quick escape out a window but you can’t break through it? Or it could make for a useful surprise attack against a villain.”

“I love your big hero brain, Iida,” you said, rubbing your thumb over his strong cheekbone. “But that’s not exactly useful for a civilian.”

“Right, of course,” Iida said, brows furrowing as he thought more. “Well, it makes for a good party trick? So long as there isn’t anything extraneous that’s broken.”

You giggled at Iida’s sad attempt to comfort you. You weren’t sure that breaking glass to show off would come up at the kind of parties that you and Iida attended. They were mostly benefits that pro heroes had to attend for appearances. But, then again, anything was possible.

Your smile spread to Iida, whose face warmed as he looked at you and soon you were in his arms, wrapped in a big bear hug. You had yet to encounter another person who gave hugs that were quite as good, with his broad chest and thick arms wrapping fully around you so you felt safe and content.

“We can order you some new glasses tonight,” you mumbled into his chest, still feeling a bit guilty about the whole ordeal. It wasn’t a disaster, truly. So long as Iida could keep his glasses in one piece for a few days—which he usually could, despite what his dozens of backups implied—then all that really needed to be done was clean the room, screw in a new light bulb, and find a tarp to put over the window until you could call a window fitting service.

“Actually, I…” Iida pulled away, his gaze back on the shelves. He was scratching his nose and hiding what looked to be a slight blush from you. You cocked your head to the side. “I kind of want to mourn these ones for a minute before we order their replacements. If that’s okay.”

It was all you could do to keep from laughing.

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, and you were back in his arms, this time providing the squeeze yourself. “Whatever you need.”

You tried to keep Iida from helping with the cleanup—it was your mess, after all—but he would hear nothing of it. Even when you argued that you were the one with a quirk that could help even a little bit. Actually, your slight gravitational pull helped draw the smallest shards of glass out of the crannies in the wood floor, though Iida made you put on protective gear beforehand. The gear was a raincoat, wellies, jeans, and a ski mask, but they did the job.

At the end of it, Iida was holding one of the frames that both lenses had fallen clean out of, examining it. They were in perfect shape, like the lenseless glasses that internet influences wore when they were trying to look nerdy.

“You think we could send these back in so that all we need is new lenses instead of a whole new pair?” Iida asked.

“Aw, like an organ donor?” you said with a grin. “Making sure its sacrifice wasn’t wasted?”

“I’m serious,” Iida said—as though he ever wasn’t. “That’s something we can do, right?”

“Of course, honey,” you said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “We can look into it tomorrow.”

Iida nodded, looking wistful as he set the glasses back in their particular spot, where hopefully they’d soon be able to return whole once more. “Honey?”

“Hmm?”

You were wrapped around one of his arms, hugging it as you leaned into his body, warm from having crawled around the room with you all evening.

“I should have said before, and I’m sorry that I didn’t, that I’m proud of you.”

You nearly scoffed. “For what?”

“You made a big step with your quirk today,” Iida said, smiling at you. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s really not,” you said. “Like I said, it’s not anything worthwhile.”

“Of course it is,” Iida said, quick to correct you. “I got my quirk from my parents, and it’s the same as my brother’s, and that’s its greatest value. Not its strength. Your quirk is a part of you. And that’s its inherent value.”

“You’re just biased because you like the package,” you argued.

“I do,” Iida said with a nod. “But my bias doesn’t matter here. I’m simply stating fact.”

“Iida,” you said, avoiding his gaze for a moment. “You’re too sweet.”

“No sweeter than you deserve,” Iida said confidently. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

“Mm, I love you,” you said. “And that’s my final word on the matter.”

Iida frowned at you, caught between wanting to repeat the sentiment back and not wanting to go back on what he’d declared as his final word.

“You know what my stance is on that,” he said carefully. You eyed him, a brow arched in challenge. You saw him waver, and a moment later he was leaning down to kiss you, all soft and warm. “But I’ll happily remind you.”

[merelliahallewell]

The Drust in Ardenweald

This post is going to sum up everything I’ve learned and inferred about the Drust from Ardenweald and what they’re up to there.

This will contain information from the main Ardenweald questline in Shadowlands, random world quests I’ve done, the zone in general, and the Mists of Tirna Scithe dungeon, but not the Covenant Campaign. 

Part 1 - The Drust Backstory

Part 2 - The Drust in BfA 

Part 4 - The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (1)

Part 5 - The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (2)

Recap

Let’s begin by laying out what’s going on, in case you zoomed through the Ardenweald story.

Ardenweald is a place of rest and rebirth, representing the “winter” as compared to the summer and springtime that the Emerald Dream is. It is where spirits of nature that die go to rest before they return to their worlds. Spirits are contained within Wildseeds, and nurtured by the native Night Fae, keepers of the many groves and great trees there. With the flow of souls having entirely abated and Anima no longer arriving, Ardenweald has felt the drought more acutely than the other realms. The Winter Queen must make the difficult decision to let some groves and wild spirits die in order to save others and conserve what resources they have. This drives the local fauna into a frenzy. Gorm, Devourers, and Spriggan are all making other things worse too, and the realm is in dire straits. 

In the middle of all this, the fucking Drust show up. Assholes.

The Invasion

Apparently they’ve invaded once before, according to Marasmius. This time they’re invading directly from the Maw of Thros, stealing anima, and taking advantage of the drought’s chaos. The Drust have been utilizing the abandoned groves as bases to fortify, with Darkreach and the Oaken Assembly being chock full of elites and acting as their main base. On top of this, the Drust have somehow convinced (forcibly, in many cases) a number of Fae to don various masks. This places them under the control of the Drust. At this point in the story, it’s unclear if they can be freed from their control. What’s worse, it’s revealed that these masks will, at some point literally turn them into Drust. It is not clear if they outnumber the Wild Hunt or not, but they are able to stretch them thin.

Per the Ingra Maloch boss description, The Drust are invading in order to utilize Ardenweald’s “mechanism of Rebirth.” This, presumably, is the mechanic that can be seen in the Queen’s Conservatory and in the cinematic with Ursoc- wildseeds containing souls are nurtured with anima and then sent back to their home worlds. 

The Drust are general boogeymen throughout the Ardenweald storyline, with the Masked Fae as the regular foes that have to be fought. They steal and hoard anima and attack the special wildseed we escort all around Ardenweald. They do not necessarily do or say a huge number of things or even have many notable characters introduced at this point in time. Most of the foes seem to be either converted Fae or Drust behemoths (which I think are constructs), rather than true, breathing Drust. 

When a vrykul-shaped Drust does show up, it’s treated as a large and powerful threat, needing several fae and the Champion to defeat. It is unclear after a certain part who is or isn’t a true Drust, and I think this may be deliberate- the Night Fae once fully converted are no different than any other Drust. 

This may explain how they managed to rebuild their armies after their initial defeat, since many of them had their bodies destroyed twice in Kul Tiras. 

The Possessed and the Masks

The Drust use masks to convert the fae into their own kind. However, the methods of getting them to don these masks are left pretty vague. It is implied that it’s a choice given to the fae. 

Join us, Niya. Don the mask and serve the masters! 

We get hints of this in the side quest chain, An Ominous Stone. In a village on the far east of the map, you collect the journal of Lewor, who described his village’s struggles with the Anima drought. The Gorm were began to gorge themselves on the land and have collapsed whole chunks of the village due to their tunnels. Land even broke off of Ardenweald, and the messengers they dispatched to ask for aid but the Wild Hunt was unable to spare any. 

At some point, a strange stone appeared that was certainly not of Ardenweald, radiating with power. He believed that it was not of Ardenweald, but that the forest may have provided it from another land. Lewor even believed that they could use its power to drive off or even defeat the Gorm. 

What happened between then and the current events are unclear, but this stone seems to have spread some sort of corruption or magic to the fae, leading to them all donning the masks. There is no mention of the Drust directly being involved in what happened there- this was a conquest through subterfuge. 

Why would a Fae willingly wear a mask and serve unknown masters from another realm? At first it may be confusing to see them join a faction known for decay and destruction, but one has to remember how seriously the drought affected Ardenweald. It may be that the Fae, dispossessed and lost after their groves were culled, were tempted by the power the Drust offered to drive off the enemies already in Ardenweald. This is speculation, though, and not hard lore- we ultimately do not know why they accepted the masks. 

There is no hope for any Fae once they have donned the mask. From the quests:

There is no coming back for those who have become possessed. Believe me... I tried.

Thank you. I tried so hard to save them... but once that mask is on, there is no return.

They are all wearing these masks now, and they are not themselves any more. 

A Pause for Speculation

If the Drust possess a curse that can be used to enslave the minds of any it touches without even having to be physically touching them, why are they doing this mask stuff and not following the same tactic as the Coven did in Drustvar? My speculation is this:

1) The Drust are known by the ancient and powerful beings of Ardenweald, mainly Marasimus and the Winter Queen. They want to avoid displaying who real threat is and taking advantage of the chaos to build their army. 

2) They disappear into the chaos caused by the Gorm and Devourers and Spriggan and even Mueh’zalah, who have already stretched the Wild Hunt so thin they can’t assist outlying villages. If those beings knew what was really happening with the Drust, they would turn their focus onto them more fully and employ the whole Wild Hunt to stop them. 

3) They needed time bought by the masked fae menace to position their existing forces to capture many of the outlying groves and fortify them. They may also have wanted the secrets Tirna Scithe held or the wildseeds hidden there.

Drust Types

I slapped this together to show the different types of Drust present in Ardenweald. Gorak Tul’s model is on the left for comparison. As a small aside, I find it interesting that the vrykul Drust almost appear to have had their heads fused with the masks somehow. Gorak Tul is so deep into that process (if it exists) that he has sprouted another few eyes and his mouth has elongated. 

Weirdly, the lady Drust do not appear to have any weird bark skin or masks anything, and the only effect they have is a general loss of bulk compared to the vrykul model used for them in BfA and freaky looking fingers. It seems as if the matrons of the Heartsbane Coven slit their throats to transform themselves into Drustlike forms. 

Motivations

While it’s stated that the Drust want to escape their curse, that’s never really expanded upon. Let’s examine the phrasing from Ingra Maloch’s dungeon journal:

Cursed to exist outside the cycle of Life and Death, the Drust now seek to circumvent their fate using Ardenweald's mechanisms of Rebirth.

The mention of a curse is interesting, because that has never really been said before in an explicit fashion. Thros must be the reason they are cursed in this sort of fashion. It’s not mentioned just what being cursed outside this cycle means, for it’s stated in the Pride of Kul Tiras storyline that Gorak Tul could be slain within his own realm, and was defeated for good.

There are also some curious lines from NPCs that intrigue me.

The Drust will rule all realms!

Nature is meant to be controlled. Conquered. And the Drust will conquer all!

At face value, I think that this implies that they want to go around conquering more realms, either of the Shadowlands or elsehwere. Maybe they already have conquered other realms, during the time they’d supposedly been stuck in Thros? They have attacked Ardenweald once before, after all. It’s an interesting mystery for the time being but unless we get a Thros raid, I don’t see this being expanded upon. I wonder if the nature of this curse will be expanded upon at any point, but knowing Blizzard that is probably not going to happen.

Miscellaneous Bits

Stone is said to be a rare find in Ardenweald by Droman Tashmur. It seems that the Drust utilized strange rocks with runes chipped into them to spread their blight everywhere or potentially influence the Fae. 

I found these lines interesting, as all are references to the Drust or their magic. 

“Creatures of decay and destruction”

“This stone speaks of hate and broken branches”

"Alien presence that threatens the forest”

"A master who will watch Ardenweald wither”

“All shall wither”

“ Where she appears, decay follows.”

Ingra is a title used by several NPCs. I wonder if it some title of nobility in Thros or meant for commanders.

A Tiny Mystery

Soultwister Cero in Tirna Noch is opening some sort of a portal. It doesn’t appear to be some sort of a standard portal, because the ground bears a ritual circle akin to what the Heartsbane uses, and at each point of it are great stones bearing runes upon them. Atop the portal is a mask, and there are two large runestones on each side as well. Something had to be important to put so much effort into opening this gateway- but why? Is it a portal to Thros to bring more troops in through? A gate to another realm of the Shadowlands, akin to De Other Side’s entrance?

It may also just be the entrance to a lovely little vacation island just across the gap that has been occupied by the Drust, but that seems like a lot of effort to reach something that is a goblin glider jump away.

[only-by-the-stars]

the annotated Tome of the Wild

Part five: Babes in the Wood!

- A half-moon the color of yellowed pages hung high in the sky above the figures on the ground OH LOOK IT’S THAT SAME DAMN MOON AGAIN. DESPITE THAT DAYS HAVE GONE BY AND IT DEFINITELY WOULDN’T LOOK THE SAME AT THIS POINT.

- “Idiot child. Perhaps I should've done something to make you more intelligent, instead of just transforming your body.” And here we have confirmation that it was Koume that changed her into this.

- Of course, the centerpiece of this scene is the reveal of what Midna’s been up to this whole time. In the show, the situation for Beatrice is similar: she thought that Adelaide just wanted a couple of kids to do household chores, and was fine with just turning them over to her in exchange for the item she needed to break her and her family’s curse. Until, of course, she grew to like them and have second thoughts, as Midna does here. Which of course lines up with how Midna initially thought to just use Link in TP to help herself and her people, until his actions and Zelda’s made her reconsider her disdain for the people of the world of light. Here it’s her bond with Aryll and Link that makes her hesitate to hand them over: she really likes Aryll, and after a rough start with Link they’re now getting along, and she feels a lot of sympathy for his situation with Mipha. She doesn’t want to keep them from getting home even for a little while, and when she finds out about Koume’s true intentions she draws the line, as her moral code won’t let her hurt others for her own sake and she knows Zelda wouldn’t want her to hurt anyone on her behalf either. This conflict and growth are exactly why I had an easy time casting Midna in this role, and I loved being able to write her and develop the dynamics she has with Link and Aryll.

- “Only the voice of the shadow that lurks in the woods, the king of darkness that rules the night, concerns me...” King of Darkness is one of Ganon’s titles in the series.

- “There is only his way.” A line that will be echoed by the Beast himself much later.

- “Aryll, I know!” Link froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. We’re at the point where Link is snapping at his beloved baby sister, showing just how stressed out he is right now. He was able to relax more when Midna was around, but now her betrayal is driving him further along that path to despair I’ve been mentioning. He immediately apologizes, to his credit, but he’s still starting to crack.

- “You are in grave peril, and your fate, your very lives depend on if you heed my words or not! The Beast stalks you, seeking your fall into his grasp... but you must not allow him to capture you, you must not give in to despair!” He’s not wrong! Listen to him!

- The shadow laughed, a long, low sound that seemed to ooze up from the deepest depths of the earth where eldritch creatures slumbered, forgotten by time and the gods alike. Calamity Ganon emerges from deep beneath Hyrule Castle.

- “You forget, do you not, that your daughter's safety depends upon keeping me happy?” The first hint of the deception that the Beast is working on Rhoam.

- Aryll is now calling her frog Alfonzo, after the engineer in Spirit Tracks.

- AND THEN THERE’S NAYRU AND KOTAKE. This was one of the most FUN things I got to play with. The episode this portion is an adaptation of is probably my favorite in the show, and I had an utter blast toying with expectations here just as the show did. Maybe even more! The show leads you to believe that the character Kotake replaces is the sinister and evil one, preying on the hapless young girl that Nayru is replacing, only to yank the rug out from under you and reveal that the girl is possessed and trying to eat the brothers.

now, Nayru is from Oracle of Ages. You meet her at the beginning, whereupon she quickly becomes possessed by the evil sorceress Veran. Kotake, meanwhile, is present as a villain in OOT and a linked Oracle game, and as a friendly shopkeeper in Majora’s Mask. We just saw the villainous version of her sister at the beginning of this chapter. So... is she evil too? If you’ve never seen the show, have played OOT and MM but not the Oracle games, you probably got taken in just like a first time viewer of the show is. Only to find out too late, as does Link, that Nayru is the people-eating one, and not Kotake, who is indeed her MM self and not evil.

- Nayru laughed too, a pleasant sound reminiscent of harp strings being played. Nayru gives Link the Harp of Ages in OOA.

- Aryll has switched the frog’s name to Dr. Calip, after the NPC in BOTW who gives you the Cursed Statue shrine quest.

- “It is thanks to you that I shall finally be free to roam the outside world, after all.” DANGER DANGER, the evil spirit wants to roam free and EAT MORE PEOPLE.

- Aryll spots the danger, but mistakes it for her desire to see Link end up with Mipha and no one else. Which we all agree with, of course, but it’s not the real reason she’s uncomfortable. Link, meanwhile, is oblivious to it, at least partially because he’s sinking deeper into despair and contemplating just letting Mipha go out of his intensifying self-hatred over what he’s done to her.

- Nayru's eager whisper broke into his thoughts. He glanced up and saw her eyes gleaming with a sort of hunger as she gazed across the room at him. DANGER DANGER, SHE WANTS TO DEVOUR YOU. Again, I choose my descriptive words very deliberately.

- Eerie purple light glowed around Nayru as she hovered in the air, and her face had been twisted into something that resembled a ReDead mask. Veran’s spirit form is indeed purple, and nobody who’s ever played OOT, MM, or WW can forget the ReDeads. my favorite monster I want them back dammit

- “Link?” Aryll pressed herself against his side and clutched at his arm. “There are a lot of skeletons in here...” Remember how Aryll was so excited about digging up a single skeleton back in Ikana? Not so fun anymore.

- In the show, the whole sequence of trying to avoid being eaten was creepy, but a bit more comedic too. I leaned fully into the horror that it truly would be here, not just because I wanted to write something scary, but also because I needed something that would traumatize Link enough to push him into the breakdown he has in the woods afterwards, setting the climax of the story in motion. His feelings of failure mirror what I headcanon he must’ve been going through just before he fell in Blatchery Plain as well, the despair he would’ve felt over being unable to prevent the fall of the kingdom, the deaths of his friends (especially Mipha, who he’s grieving the most), and knowing that he’s at his limit and about to die before he can get Zelda to safety. Which is another way that the appearance of that painting in the last chapter ties in.

- Aryll’s dream sequence! OH BOY. In the show, this is an entire episode, done in the style of 1930s animation, with musical numbers and everything. That doesn’t quite translate to prose, though, so I had to change and abridge it. More interestingly, though, there’s subtle hints in the show that the dream is not real, and is intended to lure Greg, the younger brother, into the clutches of the Beast. I decided to run with that. One of the hints in the show is that the gates you see seem to be made of ivory; in Greek myth, dreams pass through one of two gates, either horn or ivory. True dreams come through the gates of horn, while false ones pass through the gates of ivory. So naturally Aryll walks through gates of ivory to reach the tower.

The tower itself is the one located in the Cloud Tops in Minish Cap. Which, here, is ruled by Princess Hilda from Link Between Worlds, who has Aryll save her kingdom from the evil Yuga. This is all a HUGE hint that this is false, a trap. Because in ALBW, Hilda was conspiring with Yuga in a desperate bid to save Lorule. And who took over Yuga’s body as part of that plan? Ganon. BAM.

- And now the frog is being called Ezlo, after the talking cap in Minish Cap.

- Link is now so deeply in despair that the dekuwood is starting to grow around him, which is what motivates Aryll to make her deal with the Beast that brings everything to its eventual conclusion.

- A dark shape emerged from the curtain of snow; it was a small, plump man with a beard that covered the entire lower half of his face, rowing a rickety little boat. His eyebrows went up as he took in the sight of Midna lifting the unconscious Link into the air with her prehensile hair. “That is one strange fish you've caught there, missy...” This is the fisherman from Link’s Awakening.

- What Midna sees in the distance is the Great Deku Tree, but I wasn’t about to reveal that just yet.

and that does it for part five!

[indiavolowetrust]

Ok ok let's take a break from from (rightfully) bitching about how the game could have been ~spicyer~ and imagine this: police officer!satan x thief! Reader who's in a tight leather Catwoman/black cat suit 👀👀👀👀

Thanks for sending in an ask / request! And yeah, let’s take a break hehe. This is a little out of my comfort zone, but I took it as the following: MC is a thief who has been caught by their childhood friend, who has instead turned to a life of law and justice. Tones of noir. Think of MC as a jewel thief, Satan as a gumshoe detective, and the entire exchange in the black and white tones of older movies.

I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

“They say you’re a demon, you know. All that anger in one neat little package.” The interior of the constable’s automobile is dark, even with the aid of the vehicle’s external lights, but you know better than anyone that Satan can see the smile beneath your mask. The tightening of his knuckles on the steering wheel is all you need as confirmation. “Just like your name, right? Always wonder why Mama called you that.”

His eyes flicker briefly to yours in the mirror, his gaze just as piercing as ever. “You’re not charming your way out of this one.”

“We’ll see.”

It will be approximately twenty minutes to the station, of course. Five minutes from the museum, ten minutes to pass the main street, and another five minutes to pull into the parking spot. Maybe another minute or so for him to wrangle you out of the car and into the station, depending on how much resistance you give him. Given that you’ve opted to go on a heist without a partner -- a foolish decision on your part, you realize now -- you’ll have to find a way to distract him for an extra five minutes. Should be enough for that light-fingered crow to figure out where you are, anyway.

And so you wait.

“That new uniform looks absolutely wonderful on you,” you croon, adding only the slightest lilt to the end of the phrase. You stretch out in the backseat of the automobile, and your feet meet the window. The cuffs don’t get in the way of that, at least. “Did you get a promotion?”

“No.”

“Just a change of wardrobe, then?”

“You know damn well I haven’t been promoted in a decade,” Satan nearly snarls, his verdant gaze flashing with irritation. “If you could just shut up, this would go a lot a smoother. A lot better for you, at least.”

You hum. “But where’s the fun in that?  I thought you liked playing games. All that back there was pretty much just hide-and-seek.”

“We have to find criminals like you so we can bring about the peace.” His knuckles tighten once more on the steering wheel, and automobile swerves just slightly in turn. Your goading is working, evidently. “Hardly a game of hide-and-seek, if you ask me.”

“Huh. I thought you liked that game the best,” you remark. You play idly with the cuffs of your costume -- no, suit, considering its current usage -- and cast a sidelong glance towards the blond-haired detective. You catch his eye. Good.

“I didn’t.”

“Then what was all that crying when you were a kid?” you ask, teasing him further. “You used to be so much cuter back then with that little cat toy of yours. I almost miss you hanging onto my sleeve.”

His cheeks color slightly under the light of a passing street lamp. “I didn’t cry that much.”

“So all that crying was just a reason to hang onto me, then.”

“Sure.”

You smirk at him, your expression just visible under the partial disguise. “I thought cops weren’t supposed to lie,” you tease. You glance just outside the window, taking in the image of the main street. Ten minutes left. “Thought all of you were supposed to be high and mighty. By the books, you know.”

Satan says nothing at that -- either a sign of his growing irritation or his sudden surge to remain silent and not stoop to your low blows. Given his inherently wrathful nature -- he was always a snotty little brat -- you can hardly imagine it to be the latter. You feel the automobile make one of its final turns down the main street, its engine beginning to slow. If you can’t manage to incite his wrath, to throw him off his game, you’ll be stuck with a level-headed Satan. Namely, the more dangerous, efficient version of your childhood friend. The light of a street lamp flickers across the windows of the vehicle, and you begin to feel a surge of panic. The lock you’ve been picking with a hairpin won’t give itself away quickly enough.

Five minutes. You’ll need to think of something.

You pull slightly at the cat-shaped mask of your ensemble, tracing a tongue against the curve of your lower lip. You had made sure to paint it red just for this night. Satan stiffens slightly in the mirror, his gaze once more flickering away from you, and you see his jaw grit just slightly. Then there is the set posture of his shoulders, the white knuckles, the flush that has come to make itself known over his visage -- and a sense of victory begins to well up within you.

Satan is weak to you. Always has been, even when you two were kids.

The vehicle is parked a short distance to the station. He only traces the rather revealing contours of your cat-like suit for only a moment, his professionalism falling to pieces -- and then he forces his gaze to lock with yours, intent on not letting you have your way. Of course, that won’t be the case.

Never will be.

You walk in a deliberately slow manner, forcing Satan to slow his pace with yours. Blink slowly beneath your mask, your features only just barely shrouded by the disguise.

“You could’ve gone into the force like me,” he says, breaking the silence. His gaze tears away from you for just a moment, his thoughts preoccupied with what appears to be regret. You're close. “You could’ve broken the pattern instead of -- instead of doing this,” he continues. “I still don’t understand why --”

His visage has turned itself fully away from you. Now’s your chance.

You trip the detective in one swift movement, forcing him to stagger away from you, and use the free moment away from his hands to finally release yourself from the confines of the cuffs. They clatter uselessly to the ground. The detective lets out a soft groan as his back slams into the brick wall of a nearby building, his features contorting in pain. His body momentarily stunned in the aftermath. The light of a passing car begins to make its way towards the both of you -- presumably also towards the station -- and you immediately drag Satan into a nearby alley.

Still, it’s not enough. A quick glance tells you that Mammon -- that damned greedy crow -- has yet to find your location, much less arrive. You force a knee between the detective’s legs and a hand over his mouth, muffling his yells of protest.

‘Hush!“ you hiss at the equally irritated detective, furrowing your brows. “I’m going to get caught!”

Satan only struggles from beneath your vice-like grip, grousing a number of complaints from beneath your fingers. Struggling with enough force to nearly knock you away from him, the jerky movements necessitating that you adjust this way and that. The cat-like bodysuit that you’ve chosen to wear for the heist -- yet another foolish touch of theatrics on your part -- allows you a limited amount of movement, further hindering your attempts to keep the detective under your control. Unlike the adorable, sniffling child he used to be, the full grown man that he is now is much more difficult to control.

And so you decide to let go.

Satan’s face is completely flushed, his pale skin now beet-red beside his blond hair. “You -- you’ve already been caught, so just --”

God, he’s loud.

You seal your mouth over his in the span of a moment, effectively silencing whatever noise he would have made to draw attention to your location. Taking away his breath. His eyes are still open wide by the time you close yours, the surprise evident on his features. It means little to you. You force your tongue past the barrier of his lips, exploring the inside of his mouth as you do so, and tangle your fingers in the blond locks. A measure of necessity, given his previous attempts to struggle away from your grip.

You do not know how long the kiss lasts, nor do you care. You only need to stall for time. Satan all but melts under your false affection, sighing into your mouth. You angle your mouth beneath his to deepen the kiss, further occupying his attention.

And then there is the revving of an engine some distance away from your position in the alleyway. Mammon.

Time to go, you think.

You push yourself away from Satan just in time to see the lights of Mammon’s car begin to make itself up the alleyway. Shove the hapless detective’s body even further into the brick. Again there is that gasp of pain, prompting his realization -- but by the time he gathers his wits, it is far too late. You only grin at him from the inside of Mammon’s vehicle before slamming the door shut, catching the pathetic surprise in his eyes. It is nothing short of satisfying: Satan is weak, as always. For as much literature he consumes, he’s just as easy to deceive as he was as a child.

There is only the vaguest hint of unfamiliarity in his eyes as you and Mammon drive away from the police station. It flashes across the verdant puppies for only a half-second, dissipating quickly into the hue -- but it is enough to draw your attention. Not quite vexation, not quite rage. Not quite irritation, not quite annoyance. Not quite any of those things that made Satan the wrathful little beast he is as a detective.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he looked disappointed.

[hellsovereign]

@royalreef said:  HEADCANON + Abilities   //  SEND IN HEADCANON + A WORD / PHRASE FOR A RELEVANT HEADCANON ABOUT MY MUSE.

He is a demon, therefore physical strength is on his side, though in comparison to some others of his kind -- his husband, for example -- he does fall a bit short.  Lucien recognizes this and cannot even say he’s sore about it, for what he lacks in physical power he makes up for with magical ability.  Fire is, of course, a staple; he’ll throw balls of flame, light up a room with the snap of his fingers, cause another living being to spontaneously combust, or create of wall of raging inferno as a means of defense, as necessary.  However, on top of that, he’s able to tap into the darker magics of Hell, from crafting and manipulating shadow to full-on possession with a small portion of his soul, while he’s in a safe location playing puppeteer.  There is also spells of, for lack of better terms, teleportation that he is able to use on both himself and a select number of those around him, though that has a limit; one, on the number of people he can bring along, and two, how far he’s able to go with it.  

Shapeshifting is another talent of his, though it is not as drastic as it is for some.  Damien has made it known that demons can change the shape of certain body parts at will, and seeing as Lucien is a demon...well, there you go.  That’s one.  The second is on his face.  If you take a look at his mouth...wait, what, you can’t see it?  Exactly.  It is covered and hidden beneath flesh entirely by choice, usually only visible when he’s eating or drinking something, in battle, or when he really wants to terrify somebody.

Immortality -- technically this is not true, though it may seem that way, as he’ll still be fairly youthful and spry after generations of monsters (those with average lifespans, anyway) have come and gone.  Still, eventually everything runs out of time, whether it happens by old age or some would-be assassin manages to hit their mark.   

All beings, no matter what they are, exude some sort of energy, and he is able to pick up on it.  This does not necessarily mean he knows exactly where they are or what they are (though some have a sort of tell that is unmistakable), only that they are somewhere in the vicinity.  The closer they come to him, the easier it will be for him to actually target them, however there are plenty out there who have figured out a way to counter this, whether by masking that energy completely or simply changing it in a rather deceptive manner.

There are a few biological abilities that could be thrown in here, too, but I see another ask up in there, so I’ll save them for that.

<3

And you know what, to counter these, I’m throwing a few vulnerabilities in here, too.

Holy Water : Being a fully grown, mature demon, his resistance is a little higher.  Flick a little holy water at him, as a clergy member might, and it is little more than an annoyance akin to a relentless mosquito.  If someone is looking to cause harm, they have to go big; douse him in it, keep him beneath an unending stream of it, make him drink it -- then the effects will set in.  It won’t kill him, but it will knock him down for a long time.

Religious Objects : Same as above, though seeing as dousing someone in crucifixes and the like is not a general practice, there’s a small difference.  It could only take one of these objects to keep him away or potentially cause harm, so long as the wielder actually buys into whatever religion they’re pushing on him.  

Cold : This guy does not like the cold in any sense.  Hell is not a cold place, he has lived there all his life, venturing out into the cold sucks.

His spells, such as those used for possession, can be blocked entirely or rendered minimally effective with the right charms and/or counterspells.  His particular brand of fire magic, though, is not so easily thwarted, but that’s okay; being blasted in the face with a fireball is ten time better than what he might do to someone under his possession.

And finally, the big one:  his family.  If there is one thing that makes him truly vulnerable, it’s Stan and Damien.  This one should be exploited carefully, though, because he’s more likely to be looking for lapses in guard, and the second he finds one he will happily destroy the culprit in question.

[ampmiscfiles]

The Webs We Weave: Chapter 29

Start From The Beginning

Luke groaned as he opened his eyes. Looking around, he found Danny and Jessica laid out on the ground beside him. The room they were in was plain and vacant. It clearly wasn’t meant to house anyone.

“I feel like shit.” Jessica groaned, sitting up and holding her head. “Worse than any hangover I’ve ever had.”

“That’s impressive.” Danny mumbled into the floor.

“Shut up you ass.” she huffed, shoving him.

“As fun as it is to hear you two bicker, we got bigger problems.” Luke grunted, pushing himself up off the floor and walking to the door.

“Seems like a poor attempt to keep us hostage if they put us in here.” Danny frowned.

“All the better for us.” Luke said, pulling back his fist and slamming it into the door and flying back into the wall.

“Holy shit!” Jessica screamed, rushing to Luke’s side had his entire arm looked burnt. “What the hell was that?”

“Not as poor an attempt as I thought.” Danny winced as he looked over Luke’s arm.

“It’s a-”

“High powered electric field.” Norman’s voice cut off Luke’s reply. “It would be very foolish to keep three powerful individuals like you in such a simple room. Don’t worry though, you won’t be here long. I just have some things to take care of first.”

“You better hope your little field holds up Osborn.” Luke growled. “Cause it won’t be pretty if I get my hands on you.”

“You’ll find I’m not very concerned with what actually happens to any of you.“

They could hear the dismissal in his voice.

"I’m more concerned with the idiot ‘billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’ and the special little spider I’ve managed to catch. Enjoy your stay.”

The sound of the speaker crackled out as Jessica erupted into curses.

Danny felt around his ear, taking note for the first time that his communicator was missing. Unless Jessica or Luke had theirs, there was no way to reach Frank.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felicia wiped her eyes as she continued down the tunnel. They had no idea where Peter and Tony had gone. They had no idea if continuing down the tunnels would even help them at all. No one knew where they all went anyway! What if they never found them? What if Norman already had them? What if whoever Norman was working for had his own plans for Peter? It wouldn’t be the first time someone would think they could experiment on him.

She wiped her eyes again.

She wanted her Peter.

If-no-when they got him back, he was going to be on house arrest until she deemed him safe enough to return to the outside.

It shouldn’t be to hard to keep him indoors. He’d have unpacking to do in his and Wade’s new apartment after all.

She sniffled.

“Hey,” Bucky said, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “We’re going to find him. I won’t just leave one of my idiot brothers behind.”

“One of your brothers?” Felicia asked, her face buried in his chest.

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled. “Steve is idiot brother number one, Peter is idiot brother number two.”

Felicia giggled as she clutched his shirt tighter, enjoying the warmth of his arms around her.

“Usually Peter would have something snarky to say at this point.” she smiled.

“All the more reason to keep going. We’ve got to find him and take care of this Norman guy. We’ve all got lives to get back to that don’t involve a lunatic with a Halloween fetish.”

“Yeah. I’ve got to tell him how you held my dainty figure in your strong, masculine arms while I cried for him.” she snickered as Bucky choked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wade Wilson knew fury. He knew the dark desire revenge could be. He had given into that desire often enough to consider himself an expert.

Having Peter taken from him brought that dark desire front and center. He itched to pull the triggers of his guns, or swing the sharp blades of his katanas through someone’s flesh.

His thoughts were dark, and bloody. His ideas involved trails of blood and dismembered body parts. No, Peter wouldn’t like it, but he didn’t have to know either. Wade would never enact such things in front of his baby boy.

Still, if Wade was seething, murderous vengeance, he wasn’t sure what to describe the thing next to him as.

At this point, Wade had seen Matthew Murdock in various stages of emotions, but this was an entirely different beast.

For the first time ever, Wade realized the ‘Devil’ in Matt’s vigilante title might mean more than he thought.

A darkness seemed to roll off his shoulders. He was to silent to be natural.

Even the brat had noticed.

While he hadn’t been really interested in talking to either of them after the big reveal of Spider-Man’s identity, the kid was even quieter now.

“So, I can’t believe I’m the one asking this, but what’s our plan?” Wade said, breaking the tense silence.

Matt stopped completely, his face turned straight ahead.

“You two will get Peter and Stark. I will handle whoever’s there.”

“You wait a sec-”

Wade grunted as he was slammed into the wall, Matt’s arm buried in his throat.

“You listen to me Wilson, I won’t repeat myself. You two will get Peter and Stark and get them to safety. We have no idea what kind of shape we’re going to find them in. Considering our situation, I seriously doubt either of them would be any use to us. I need to know Peter is safe. I trust you to follow directions and get him out.

"Bu-” Wade choked as Matt pressed harder.

“My son was taken from me. You may be dating him Wilson, but he was my kid first. I made a promise to his aunt to get him out. I can die, Wade, you can’t. If anyone can make sure Peter gets out, it’s you. That’s always going to be your role. Peter is always going to be your job to protect. If you decide to ignore me and fight whoever we find, you better hope I die there. If I don’t, I’ll make it a personal goal to find a way to make sure you do. I’ll do what I have to, regardless of what it means for me.”

Matt growled as he released Wade and shoved him to the side before turning to Harley.

“The same thing goes for you. Get Stark out.”

“And if they’re fine?” Wade coughed, standing up fully. ��You know Pete isn’t just gonna stand aside.”

“Then you better make sure he’s not alone.”

Even after being surrounded by Avengers, looking at Daredevil, Harley felt he could finally see what being a real hero really meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony winced as his eyes cracked open to bright lights. His head throbbed and he felt sore. Peeling his eyes open slowly, he took note of his state. He was in a propped up position, but strapped to a metal table. Across from him, in the same situation, was a still unconscious Peter.

“Peter? Peter! Wake up kid!”

“He’s not going to hear you, Stark. I was very careful about how much sedative I gave him over you. I wanted us to have a few moments together.”

Tony growled as Norman stepped up beside him.

“I have to say, while I was hoping to catch two birds with one stone, you weren’t the other bird. Still, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Who was crazy enough to let you out?” Tony glared.

“There was a time I would have risen to that bait, but I believe that out of the two of us, I’m not the one who has anything to worry about.” Norman smirked, moving over to Peter.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” Norman asked, running a finger down Peter’s cheek. “A marvel for sure.”

“Don’t touch him!”

“Has he ever really discussed himself with you?” Norman asked, moving away from Peter, ignoring Tony.

“He’s done research on himself, you know. Extensive research. He’s accessed my servers to an extent Harry doesn’t even know about.”

Tony frowned, wondering where this was going.

“You know, the spider’s venom he received was never meant for human experimentation…..at least not when he was bitten. My people had run multiple tests on them and had been recording the changes in their poison. It was a secret project, so there were no time constraints.

One of the very few projects I gave free reign to.

I needed it to be perfect before anyone could know about it….and they were making progress all the time.” Norman looked over at a large monitor detailing information on the spiders.

“What was the project supposed to be?” Tony asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Once properly developed, they would be harvested to create a new breed of super soldiers…ones that would put Steve Rogers to shame. It isn’t a coincidence that Peter’s abilities are greater than Captain America’s. That was always the point.

"You just said it was never meant for human experimentation!”

“I said the spider that bit Peter wasn’t meant for human experimentation. None of the spiders in that batch were even remotely ready to be harvested. Truthfully, the fact he’s even alive is incredible. The venom literally altered his DNA.” Norman paused, looking from the screens to Peter.

“He’s far to precious to be out unsupervised. You had no idea what you had with him.” Norman said, glaring at Tony. “He nearly died the time he saved your ass by protecting your precious Stark property!”

“How about when you attacked him!”

Norman laughed as Tony fumed, guilt over the entire event of Peter’s Homecoming night gnawing at him.

“If you ever thought Peter’s life was really in danger, you’re more of an idiot than I took you for. While I didn’t know who was under the mask, I would never have killed them. They were far more valuable alive than dead. That said, he wasn’t going to come in quietly, and his abilities made close combat difficult to achieve. Naturally, I had to up the ante to acquire him. Admittedly, I underestimated the intelligence under the mask. It wasn’t simply brute force that beat me. Peter’s mind works amazingly fast to try and analyze everything around him.”

Tony didn’t respond, he didn’t need to. He was fully aware of the brilliance of Peter’s brain. While he would never flat out say anything to Harley, if Peter had decided to return to him and SI, he would easily put him as the main inheritor to the company.

Harley was smart and could most likely run the business perfectly but , he could be rash and come off a bit abrasive. Peter on the other hand, was extremely intelligent with a calm and friendly personality. Out of the two, people would most likely be more willing to deal with Peter than Harley…..kind of like how people were more willing to deal with Pepper than him.

Still, none of that mattered if they didn’t get out of here.

“Oh yes, you know all about him though, don’t you?” Norman sneered, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

“You know all about his perfect grades from the moment he entered school till he left. You know all about his life before his uncle passed.”

“I know they haven’t had it easy-“

“All you know about him is what any idiot can look up. You know nothing about what the Parker’s have experienced emotionally. Peter and Harry have been friends since they were very young. I’ve watched Peter grow up. I was around when he lost his parents. I went with my wife and son to the funeral. His parents were brilliant scientists.”

Norman chuckled, looking at Peter.

“He definitely took after them.”

Taking a breath, Norman moved to a small table and picked up a glass cube.

“I had hoped spending time with Peter would have been good for Harry. Maybe get him on the right track. Unfortunately, Harry will never amount to anything.”

“He seems to be running Oscorp just fine .” Tony sneered. “Better than you.”

“I’ll give it to him on one thing.” Norman said, walking up to Tony. “He made a smart move hiring Peter for the pharmaceutical department.”

Tony glared as Norman stopped before him. A sly grin spread across the man’s face as he held up the glass cube.

“Anyway, what do you think?”

Tony looked into the cube, taking in the small spider suspended inside. There was nothing special in the way it looked, but he had a pretty good idea of its importance.

“I’m sure you know why I’m showing you this. It’s the very spider that bit Peter.” he twirled the glass.

“It was found on the floor after the field trip had ended. At the time, we all assumed the spider had just died being outside of it’s controlled environment.”

Norman chuckled at himself.

“I’m honestly ashamed of myself for taking so long to put the pieces together on where Spider-Man might have gotten his abilities. Of course, when I did, I tried to offer him a place as a partner. With his abilities, given by me by the way, we could have made a formidable team.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

“It wasn’t to surprising.” Norman shrugged. “Spider-Man had chosen the path of the hero long before I got to him. It was just disappointing.”

“When did you figure out it was Peter under the mask?”

“Oh, I have you to thank for that.” Norman laughed.

“Think back, Tony Stark . Think back to the early days of a certain webslinger. Think back to a moment in time where you failed him by not trusting him over your own issues.”

Tony frowned, feeling like he should know where Norman was going, but missing something.

“Does the moniker of ‘Vulture’ ring any bells?”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“Oh yes. He was willing to keep Peter’s secret, until he was offered his freedom. It’s amazing what people will do for the chance to get what they want. For Toomes it was his family, for me, well, he’s right across from you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re so much better?” Norman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Have you not been pushing him to rejoin your little hero group? From what I’ve gathered, Spider-Man has never seemed to be interested in joining the Avengers. In fact, I’d say he went out of his way to avoid you.”

Tony’s jaw tightened.

“I guess my return worked more in your favor than you want to admit.” Norman smirked, moving back over to Peter.

“He should be waking up soon, then the real fun will begin.”

“What are you planning?”

“Well, I can’t let him out to wander the streets, now can I? No. So, he’ll have to be kept inside. Luckily, I’ve got some….. volunteers testing out some new features I plan to use in Peter’s room.”

“You’re going to keep him locked up like some prisoner? Yeah, I’m sure that will work out for you.”

“Well, it will only be temporary.” Norman shrugged. “Once he learns his place, he’ll be able to leave his room.”

Tony growled, pulling against his restraints.

“How cute, Stark. Do you really think you’ll be able to break those without your fancy suit?”

“You’re going to regret this Osborn!”

Norman just smirked, looking over at Peter as he started to stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frank grunted in annoyance as he checked over his gun for, what felt like, the hundredth time.

He was growing restless, not to mention the increasing feeling something was wrong.

“Hell with this.” he said, standing up.

“This stealth shit ain’t working for me.”

Grabbing his bag, Frank left the rooftop and headed off where he had watched the members of the Defenders go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We gotta get out of here.” Jessica huffed, stalking around their prison cell.

“Well, until we figure out a way around that field, we arn’t going anywhere.” Danny sighed.

“It would be nice to have the nerd with us.” Luke mumbled.

“That little shit is definitely taking me out drinking once this is all over.” Jessica grit her teeth, kicking the wall to relieve frustration.

Danny watched as she stalked off toward the other side of the room, not bothering to look where her foot had made contact with the wall.

He looked however.

His eyes widened at the small dent and hairline crack in the wall.

Maybe they weren’t as trapped as they thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter groaned as he struggled to regain consciousness. His head hurt slightly, and his eyes felt heavy.

Making to move his hand to rub his eyes, Peter snapped to awareness as he felt the restraints work against him.

“Wha-Tony?” Peter croaked out, throat dry.

“Peter!”

“Isn’t that cute.” Norman sneered. “Tony Stark all concerned for Peter Parker’s well being.”

“I’m not the one that drugged him and strapped him down!”

Peter took the two men arguing as a chance to fully assess his whereabouts and his situation.

He and Tony were both restrained and at the mercy of a psycho.

‘ Great. ’

Peter internally huffed.

He needed to figure out a way out of the restraints, but he could still feel the drugs in his system. He wouldn’t be anywhere near as good in a fight right now as he would be normally.

Still, he had to chance it.

He couldn’t let Tony stay here.

Norman wasn’t after Tony, despite their long time rivalry. That made Tony expendable. Expendable people usually didn’t last in these situations and despite their history, Peter couldn’t let anything happen to the man.

Spider-Man didn’t abandon anyone.

Twisting his wrists, Peter tested the strength of the restraints and various angles and points. Infuriatingly though, they were solid at all points.

“Well now, Peter.” Norman smiled. “Let’s help you get a better look at things.”

Peter watched as Norman moved to the side of the table and pressed a button. The table gave a slight vibration as it tilted forward, putting him into an almost standing position.

“There we go. Now we can all properly see each other.”

Peter held back his glare, refusing to give anything away as to how he was handling things.

“I’m so glad to see you again, Peter.” Norman smiled, an unsettling scenarity in the action. “Our time together was so short last time.”

“You’re the one who left.” Peter replied.

“Well, I had a few things to take care of.” Norman shrugged. “But everything is how it should be now.”

Norman moved directly into Peter’s eyeline, his expression sent Peter’s Spider-Sense screaming.

Norman reached out a hand, grabbing Peter’s chin roughly.

“Now, Peter, how about we finish what we st-”

“Osborn!”

Peter froze.

He knew that voice.

He knew that voice so well.

The missing puzzle piece had finally fallen into place

Norman grinned before dropping his hand and pulling Peter’s mask back over his face.

“Can’t have just anyone knowing your little secret, now can we?” Norman chuckled before  turning to the new arrival.

“I apologize for the lack of a proper delivery but ,” Norman chuckled. “I don’t believe we’ll have to wait much longer. As you can see, we have something he’ll be very anxious to have returned.”

“We better not.” the man threatened, before turning to both Peter and Tony.

Tony looked between the two men. It was obvious they were talking about Peter, but what business did either of them have trying to lure in Deadpool?

That was who they were after, right?

“I must say, Tony Stark was not who I was expecting to see when I came here.” the man chuckled before focusing his full attention on Peter.

“Hello again, Spider-Man.”

Peter looked at the man before him, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“How’s it going, Fisk?”

[marypsue]

Something Borrowed, Something Blues 8 / ?

Well, thanks to tumblr's absolute competence and excellent decision-making, I can't link to previous chapters posted on my blog and still have anybody see this post. So this seems like a great time to remind everyone that all my fics are available to read, in a convenient, user-friendly format, over on AO3! My handle there is also MaryPSue. 

Between this and the demise of tumblr fandom with the platform changes, I plan to phase out posting actual fic to tumblr at all. Next chapter will most likely only be posted to AO3, with an update notification posted here.

...

Once upon a time, there was a seed.

The greatest redwood forests start from a single seed, and so too it was with this seed. Dormant, it lay for decades in rich and fertile soil, waiting only for the right conditions to unfurl its tentative leaves. To put forth its questing roots.

...

The moment the words fell out of his mouth, Dipper knew he’d made a mistake.

But he’d been challenged! On his own ground! In his home, of all places, by one of his own creations! Who did the Woodsman think he was? The moment he’d seen those antlers twined into the branches of Henry’s apple tree - 

"Now hold on, hold on, back it up just a tick," Rosa said. "Who's this now?"

...

Once upon a time, there was a sapling.

It had grown from a seed, a seed nourished by magic both ancient and entirely new, a seed planted in rich and fertile soil. It was young still, its trunk no wider than a slender wrist, but its roots ran strong and deep.

The sapling grew tall and strong, entwined with the narrow trunk of an apple tree, so closely that their fruits intermingled, that they could not be told apart. Who watered one watered the other; what nourished one, nourished the other. Apple and sapling shared all things; water, sunlight, soil, the love of the one who tended their orchard, of those who sat in the shade and shelter of their branches.

And then, one day, the apple tree fell.

...

The apple tree arched shimmering branches overhead, laden with both delicate, almost translucent blossoms and glossy fruit so rich and red that Mira could swear they were dripping colour into the detritus of leaves and needles below.

In the strangest way, the scene was familiar. She couldn’t, if asked, have explained why, but - this tree was real and huge and healthy, and heavy with fruit, blossoms, and lush foliage (which, the closer Mira looked, seemed to be in all of the different seasons at once), but somehow it reminded her of nothing so much as the scrawny, spectral soul-tree she and Alcor had destroyed. 

She wasn’t scared.

That was strange, too. Maybe the strangest of all. Mira had the funniest feeling - maybe just because of the memory of that other tree, and what she’d seen and done that day - that she was supposed to be scared. And yet, the tree was unusual, maybe a little eerie, but it wasn’t frightening. In fact, just being under the canopy of its branches made Mira feel - warm. Safe. Sheltered. 

Protected.

Without, Mira realised with a start, the feeling of being maybe just a little bit...watched which came with the territory of being Mizar. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t felt Alcor’s all-seeing eye trained on her back. It was a feeling she’d learned to live with, long ago, a feeling that had been a comfort at times, even as it had been a giant pain in the ass at others. She’d gotten so used to it that she hardly even registered it anymore. Hardly noticed it was there.

And now it was gone. 

Mira didn’t know whether to feel worried or relieved.

...

Once upon a time, there was a tree.

It stood alone, and yet not alone. A forest surrounded it, a forest of old magic and older growth, a forest filled with seeds of its fruit. The number of those who sheltered under its branches grew and grew with each passing year, as the forest itself grew, as its canopy enfolded the mountainside.

And yet, the tree still stood alone. No longer intertwined with another, its trunk seemed gnarled and twisted, its branches barren but for its curious stolen fruit. Its roots ran so deep and wide now that no seed dared take root near it. No other tree dared risk tasting the soil that nourished it.

It had become an exceedingly thin and bitter soil.

Without the apple beside it, the tree was but half a tree, roots and branches spreading ever outwards, seeking after something that, in its heartwood, it knew it had lost. Something that it needed to be fully whole.

...

The hairs on the back of Ian's neck were standing on end.

That probably had something to do with the huge tree-monster with burning blue eyes roaring at them. Or the aura of power rolling off of Alcor's disintegrating human disguise. Or the redheaded figures ringing the clearing like guards, peering balefully at them from between the birches. Or the fact that, despite Alcor's accusation, Mira still wasn't anywhere to be seen. There were actually so many things to be frightened or unsettled by that Ian was starting to feel a little spoiled for choice.

But it wasn't just fear. At least, Ian didn't think it was, though, judging from the way the other two humans in their party had drawn closer together, they might be inclined to disagree. He was vibrating with energy, both nervous and strangely excited - literally vibrating, he realised, fingers drumming a staccato tattoo against his bouncing leg.

The sheer ambient magic hanging around the forest was making his mechanical eye go haywire, too, Ian realised, looking around. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to realise that what looked like indistinct red and green shapes when seen through his left eye, easily mistaken for drifting leaves or shaking branches or the dappled shadow on a tree trunk shifting, became ethereal, green-tinted human figures with shockingly red hair when seen through the right. 

But now that they were standing inside the ring of trees, what Ian could see through his right eye had gone practically psychedelic. One minute there was nothing there but the wind in the evergreens; the next, tall redheaded figures with greenish skin and unusually long fingers; the next, everything was black and white save for the fist-sized balls of blue fire hovering where the green people had stood, shedding leaves made of blue flame that shaded to autumnal yellow at the tips and edges. 

And it wasn't only the...dryads?...that Ian's eye had decided to warp. It flickered from the clearing in full colour, to black and white interrupted only by the glow of what Ian assumed had to be magic, to a greenish haze that made it hard to tell anything apart, to fire. The enormous tree monster in the centre of the clearing was now a slim, tall, antlered figure made of blue flame, now a pale human man whose eyes were black holes and whose antlers dripped with severed hands and feet, now a hideously gnarled, blackened tree rooted firmly in the earth and twined so closely together with the apple tree that stood at the centre of the clearing that they almost looked braided together. Alcor was now Tyrone, now a crackling ball of golden light as tall as Rosa with enormous wings sweeping out to encircle the clearing, now - Ian blinked, and it had vanished, but he could have sworn he'd seen a small, dark-haired boy, about twelve or thirteen, in strange, old-fashioned clothing, standing where Alcor had stood.

The view from Ian's left eye stayed constant, steady, while the view from his right jumped wildly from one vision to the next. It was enough to give a guy a headache.

And he was getting a headache. A slow, dull throb was starting to build behind his right eye, like the prosthetic was growing too big for its socket. 

It was a familiar feeling. Ian really hoped it didn’t mean what he thought it meant.

...

Once upon a time, there was a deep, dark forest.

It had stood for a hundred hundred years, and it would stand for a hundred hundred more. And, at the very heart of the forest, there was a tree.

It stood at the centre of a clearing, a clearing it had made for itself. And for years, for centuries, it stood alone.

And then, one day, a little rabbit came hopping along and nestled down in its roots.

...

"The hell kinda magic's goin' on around here?" Rosa complained, from somewhere behind Dipper. He ignored her. "Feels like I'm seein' double."

"You're not the only one," Ian muttered, and Dipper resisted the urge to turn and look. He was talking about his artificial eye and its artificial Sight. That was all. Nothing more.

"Oh, for - am I the only person here who isn't somehow magically sensitive?!" Sun-mi protested. "What's going on? Where's Mira? What is that thing?" Dipper was sure it wasn't his imagination that that last sentence sounded more curious than annoyed or frightened.

"Based on context, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it's an ancient forest spirit," Ian said. "And that it does not like us being here."

Dipper could hear the grimace in his voice, and, despite the fact that clinging to a human mask was growing more difficult and confusing by the second, couldn't help but echo it. Ian was no fool; he'd probably worked out exactly what Dipper had. If the Woodsman was walking again, these days, it almost definitely meant he felt his forest was under threat. And what greater threat than...

"Wait. You never met the Woodsman, did you?" Dipper broke concentration long enough to ask. If any of the other three noticed that the movement of 'his' lips didn't exactly sync up with the words, they were too polite to mention it.

Ian gave Dipper an odd look, made odder by the way his prosthetic eye was flickering and roving in his head. "On the one hand, you're absolutely correct, but on the other hand, I get the feeling you're talking about something else completely that I don't know if I should be agreeing with."

Dipper cleared his nonexistent throat and nodded in Sun-mi's direction. Ian winced.

"Oh, what?" Sun-mi demanded, planting both hands on her hips. "Look, I'm not exactly an idiot. I know there's something here you all aren't telling me, and I'm getting pretty damn sick of it! Especially if it has some bearing on the mysterious disappearance of my best friend! You owe me the truth. Spill."

Ian glanced over at Dipper. Dipper met his eyes with a wince of his own.

"Gruargh," the Woodsman said, and Dipper started. He'd almost forgotten the big guy was there.

"Hold your horses, we'll get to you," he said to the Woodsman, whose eerie, sunken blue eyes somehow managed a kicked-puppy look, before turning back to the three humans with him. "Ian? Do you want to...?"

Sun-mi crossed her arms over her chest, fixing Ian with a penetrating stare. "I don't particularly care who it is, but somebody'd better start talking. Now."

Ian pressed his lips tight together, glancing down at the waving grasses to his left. He shook his head, but didn't speak.

"Fine," Dipper said, with a sigh that rattled the remaining particles of his temporary meatsuit. "I -"

He didn't get to finish the sentence.

With a roar that literally shook the clearing, the Woodsman lunged. His impossibly long arm swept forward, knocking Rosa off her feet, and grabbed Dipper by the throat, hauling him up into the air. The Woodsman drew Dipper up close to his face, seemingly oblivious to the screams and shouts from the humans below, until Dipper was eye-to-glowing-blue-eye with the Woodsman. Through the sudden fear that spiked through him, Dipper realised the Woodsman's head seemed a lot larger than the last time they'd seen each other. Like, a lot larger. Like, the Woodsman's head was as tall as Dipper's entire meatsuit larger. It seemed the Woodsman had been isolated out in the woods for so long that he'd forgotten human scale.

Either that, or, the way he was one with the woods now, he'd grown with them.

Neither, Dipper thought stupidly, spelled good things for his very squishy human companions down below.

"Oh my stars!" one of the girls was shrieking, over and over again. Dipper hadn't pegged either of them as likely to lose their heads in a situation like this, but then again, he supposed, you never really knew until you got somebody there. Well. He knew, of course, he knew lots of things, but...when humans were involved, they could always surprise you.

"Uh," Dipper tried, into the baleful glare of that actinic blue eye. "Guess that was the wrong response...?"

The Woodsman answered by opening the gash in his bark that served as a mouth and letting out another bone-shattering roar. Literally bone-shattering. Dipper felt his meatsuit buffeted mercilessly in the wind of that roar, could feel the particles stripping away in that wind like confetti. He tried to hold them in place, but it was no use. The sheer power pouring off the Woodsman shredded his human disguise like wet tissue paper, leaving Dipper scrambling to put on an appropriately humanoid face and rein his wings back in. He'd been aiming to intimidate the Woodsman when they were only visible on the magical level, but now, without his constructed body and with his power laid bare for everyone to see, he didn't feel like burning out anybody's eyes.

The short shriek Sun-mi let out told Dipper that he hadn't been entirely successful.

"Alcor!" she yelled, waving an arm in Dipper's direction. "That's Alcor!"

Ian grimaced. "Got it in one."

"That's a demon!"

"And now you're two for two," Rosa agreed, with forced nonchalance, though Dipper was pleased to note that she did at least look pale.

"And you all knew about this?" Sun-mi demanded, the shock in her voice starting to shade towards anger. "Oh my stars, did that poor schmuck he was possessing just get obliterated!?"

"What? No! That meatsuit was all mine," Dipper protested.

"No humans were harmed in the making of this motion picture," Ian muttered, under his breath. Sun-mi's existential crisis didn't seem to be holding his attention any more than the Woodsman did, though - he was still busy looking around, watching the redheaded dryads who encircled the clearing, jumping at shadows. Dipper wondered if he was feeling the tug of ancient, familiar power too.

And that was all he thought about that, for a while, because it was then that the Woodsman started to squeeze.

...

Mira's attention was so taken by the tree that she almost didn't notice the man standing under its branches. She wasn't sure when he'd appeared, wasn't sure whether he'd been there the whole time, standing almost inhumanly still and silent, watching her look around. The lush green grass and the laden branches waving around him made his stillness all the more pronounced.

Mira took a half-step back.

The man under the tree raised his head to look at her, but the dappled shadows of the tree's branches still obscured his features. He was tall, though, the top of his head and his shock of bright red hair hidden behind the leaves and flowers of the tree, and pale as milk. He seemed strangely familiar somehow, but the more Mira looked, the less sure she was of what he actually looked like. Was he wearing a plaid flannel shirt and jeans? A dark, formal suit? Leaves and birchbark? Anything at all?

She took another step back, and the man reached out an arm towards her. She couldn't make out his features, couldn't tell if his nose was large or small or if his eyes were wide-set or close together, but somehow she could swear that his expression was pleading.

Against all her better judgement, Mira stopped moving.

Slowly, the tall man lowered himself to one knee in front of her. As the top of his head came down out of the branches, Mira realised that it hadn't all been branches that she'd been seeing. A rack of impressive antlers, shaped like a deer's but gnarled like wood, sprouted from the man's head. Rich, red apples hung from the antlers, their colour so deep and true that Mira's mouth watered at the sight.

( - for a second, she could swear they were dripping with it, bloody drops splashing against the leaf-littered ground - )

Mira took a cautious step forward, and then another. The tall man's arm was still outstretched, but the closer Mira got, the easier it was to tell that he wasn't simply reaching out for her. Something was taking form in his fingers, and for a second Mira recoiled, thinking she was seeing a little brown snake crawling out of his sleeve (leaves?). 

But it wasn't, when she looked closer, a snake at all. It was a slender brown root, twisting and twining itself into an empty, elaborate coil. Almost like -

The tall man raised his head, then, and looked Mira in the eye. She still couldn't seem to pin down his features, but she found herself frozen in place by eyes that were the most vibrant midsummer-sky blue.

The tall man held the ring up to Mira. She couldn't see his lips move, but the wind in the leaves, the rustle of the grass, the low buzz and hum of the bees dipping into the flowers, all seemed to come together to form one sound. 

No. Not one sound. One word.

Stay.